


Wolf Moon

by sh33pish



Series: Dark Potter Musings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bad Parenting, Dark Harry Potter, Physical Abuse, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sh33pish/pseuds/sh33pish
Summary: A dark alternate origin story to Fenrir Greyback. I took some liberty with the timeline.





	Wolf Moon

The fire had nearly died. On the old rug the family dog laid curled up with his long limps intertwined. The boy was resting on the dogs broad back. His bruises still hurt. On his thin arms and his bare back the streaks of his fathers whip stood out garish red against pale skin. Although there was no blood his back still felt as if it was bleeding profusely. In pain and feeling rather cold he cuddled up with the dog. This dog ranked as the most valued member of the family. His place was inside the house and not out in the kennel with the rest of the pack. Contrary to the boy who spent most of his nights outside in the old stables. Since he had turned eight his father was constantly disapproving of him which let to the child loosing one privilege after another. After having taken nearly everything away from his son the man added beatings of various kinds. This afternoon he had caught and whipped him until the child almost passed out. To the boys surprise he was allowed into the hall afterwards where a new pair of jeans and a pair of worn leather shoes awaited him. His father ignored him for the most part and went up to his chambers. The comfort of being indoors and the pain of his new wounds made the boy tired so he lay curled up with the dog in front of the fireplace. Above the dancing flames was an old oil painting showing a Muggle getting torn apart by hungry wolves. Somewhere in that gruesome scene a little girl hid from the monsters and the boy wondered if he would do the same. The warmth made him slip in and out of the horrifying dreams he always had. So he grabbed the dog tighter and pulled the animal closer to himself.

  
The boy heard the boots on the wooden stair that let down into the long hall of the old house. It was in possession of his father's family since the raid of Lindisfarne. When his ancestors took the land by force. Generations of unpleasant people had lived, killed and died here. In front of the hearth his father had killed his own brother to inherit the land and the house. And because he had quite enjoyed his new won freedom he raped his sister-in-law and, after she gave birth to his offspring, killed the unfortunate woman. Nobody in the ministry ever asked what happened. Nobody wanted to know what was happening in this god forsaken place.

  
His father entered the long hall. His boots scraping on the rough hewn stone that covered the ground. He paused over the bundle of dog and boy limbs and then let out his husky low voice. “Come on. There's work to be done.”  
The boy scrambled to his feet. His long unwashed hair fell over his face and almost reached his hips mostly covering up the mess his father made of his body. The moon was shining through the small windows in the stone walls and the dog was starting to howl for his pack. The boy began moving and followed his huge father out in the cold night.

  
It was January 1961. It was the wolf moon. It was time for a hunt.  
Two men were waiting for them. One of them, a man with light brown hair and a weathered face, the boy knew from previous encounters and had noticed that he was a nice man who kept his father's temper in check. The other one was a silent older gentleman he met just once and did not like. Especially because something about this man made his father incredibly angry. His mouth split into a yellow-toothed grin when he saw the boy stumbling after his father.  
“How old is your son now, Freki?”, the older asked. “Thirteen.”, his father nearly whispered looking at the moon with disgust. Then he walked around the long house and opened the kennel. Twenty large dogs started to run around the three men and the boy.  
“Are you serious about bringing the boy?”, the brown haired man inquired while looking pitiful at the goosebumps forming on the child's bare chest and arms.  
“We need a lure”, his father replied without looking at him.  
“You prepared him for this?” the old men asked and watched absent minded how his breath condensed in the air. His father nodded in reply.  
One nearly inaudible whistle and the dogs stood and listened. “Find the dirty halfblood”, Freki said voiceless and the dogs spread out. “Follow them”, his father then whispered in his ear.

  
Without a moment of hesitation the boy started to run after the dogs getting faster with every inch he brought between himself and his tormentor. He reached the wood and without regard for his bruised body he stormed through branches into the thicket. Scratching his already sensitive skin. He smelled his blood before he could feel himself bleed. It was freeing to run and he enjoyed it even though he knew his father was using him as bait for his new years hunt. Ecstatic he started to howl with the dogs running left and right of him jumping one fallen branch after another. And then he heard the howl. The beast was there. Near him. Near the dogs that had stopped barking.  
The branches cracked and the hairy beast stood before him. Illuminated by the full moon the werewolf looked down on him. Curious and without haste the monster started to sniff him. The boy was shivering. Even though this was what his father was doing his whole life, he himself had never seen a werewolf up close. Never had he imagined a werewolf to be that big. The beast was even larger than his father. Slowly the monster stepped in his direction and kept sniffing him up and down. The boy didn't shake anymore. His fathers training had hardened him well. The werwolf's muzzle nearly came in contact with one of the whip streaks. Before the boy could react in any way a stream of red light exploded on the tree above him. The werwolf howled and stormed in the direction of the cast spell. Now the boy could hear a fight break out and he tried to huddle in the winter bare undergrowth. Before he had found a place the older man apparated behind him.  
“We still need you.”, he grabbed the boys arm and disappeared with him. Where they reapparated the beast was battling both his father and the other man. His father had cast a silver net over the werwolf which the monster was straining against while the brunette man cast spell after spell at it.

  
“You better not kill him. He'll be needed for the trial.” The old man shouted in the direction of the other hunters.  
When the boy appeared the beast went quiet. It stopped straining and started to sniff the air again. Then it broke loose.  
Even though both men fired stunning spell after stunning spell the monster leapt with two large strides at both the boy and the man. And before the man could cast any spell his head was separated from his body. The headless corpse tipped over and covered the now screaming boy with hot blood. And then the beast sank his teeth into his shoulder. Just for a moment the boy felt hot and not cold anymore and his body felt strong. Then he noticed the werewolf falling down. Turning back into a human. Normal but dead. The brunette man had cast the death spell. He stood there with his father on the opposite site of the clearing. His face was contorted in disgust while looking at the boy. “We should have killed that beast as soon as we found it”, the man said while staring at Freki's boy. “They should all be killed. They're not worth being alive.” And with these words the man disapparated.  
Freki looked at his own flesh and blood. His wand in hand. But the spell the boy expected didn't come. His father laughed maniacally and then whistled. The dogs followed him out of the woods their muzzles bloody from devouring the dead man. “Come”, his father said looking over his shoulder. And the boy followed him.  
In the old kitchen that was build on the premisses his father chained him on the walls. He was now in the same place his mother was in for the last days of her life. “You didn't turn even though your whore mother had the curse. Maybe you'll keep it that way.” His father smiled and kissed his temple. The boy started to shiver violently. His father had never before done such a thing.

 

The following night when the moon stood in its zenith Fenrir Greyback killed his father Freki and devoured his body.


End file.
